Time and Fools
by emg.noir
Summary: "Granger! Release me this instant! And fix my hair!" In these hours of war, time really shouldn't be wasted on petty matters such as determining where the line between love and hate is drawn. Dumbledore has a game up his sleeves. This can only end badly.


Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling. This was written for fun and not for profit.

Takes place during the students' 7th year. AU for most of book 6 and after.

Chapter One: The Beginning of it All

"Time is making fools of us again." ~J.K. Rowling

* * *

10 September 1997

"Would you _please_be so kind as to remove yourself from my sight, Malfoy?" The boy in question looked down with a smirk, looming over the girl sprawled on the floor. "Grr! You have got to be the most _infuriating _Carbon-based organism _on this planet_!" A shrill feminine voice screeched throughout the stairwells of Hogwarts.

Magical energy crackled and arched in bright fluorescent colors down the sixth floor hallway outside of Professor Vectors' advanced arithmancy class. The tall and noble windows of Hogwarts rattled with barely contained fury and the solid oak doors of nearby classrooms violently swung open and close, distracting the lectures inside. Loose wrappers from chocolate frogs, sugar quills and final papers swirled in the torrential chaos created by the Wizarding World's (quite possibly) most volatile duo.

The Brightest Witch of Her Year did her best to take in deep, calming breaths. She focused on counting to ten in her head; a truly difficult task, she quickly learnt—especially when she had to gather her fallen tomes and ignore her…rather exasperating companion at the same time. Unfortunately for the tall, pale fellow who sneered down at frenzied bookworm, her methods did not seem to be working.

"Just leave me _alone_." She stressed. "Haven't you caused me enough trouble? Honestly, is it too much to ask for one day away from your annoying presence? A single, solitary day. Do you think you're capable of that?"

Hermione only received a scoff and sneer in reply and sighed, hopelessly. "That's, sadly, what I thought, as well."

Choosing to ignore the manifestation of her anger for a good laugh, the blond Slytherin kicked a few more of the Gryffindor's hefty tomes out of her reach and smirked at what sounded like an angry growl in response. He barely blinked when a spray of sparks poured from her wand and danced at his feet. Snickering, he continued to mock her gathering form.

"Well, look-it here, mudblood. You certainly do catch on quicker than most. Perhaps those daft professors were, surprisingly, quite astute in determining your intelligence." Malfoy taunted, "I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes." Then, he made a show of scraping his beloved boots free of any mudblood-germs he may have contracted by interacting with her belongings. "Lower life forms easily adapt to living where they belong… crawling on their bellies, on the ground….with trash, dirt… and mud." Malfoy said with a cold smirk, his frosty gray eyes narrowed with malice.  
"I suppose I could concede that you do have some form of intelligence. A bit surprising, really, since you never have to challenge yourself, always working with the likes of Scarhead and that unfortunate fellow with atrocious hair color and even more ungodly family size whose name isn't fit to soil my tongue…by the way, have they gotten to start working on child number 16 yet? I should send them a sickle. It might feed the traitors for a week...Oh! I've nearly forgotten about that pathetic excuse of a pure-blood, Longbottom; you seem to coddle him as well. The fool only has his flowers to comfort him, really.  
"It's such a pity. As an intelligent being, you must feel so underappreciated; never able to really achieve more for yourself, always doing work for others. As a mudblood, well, we really don't care, now do we? You could have had such potential as a pure-blood with your know-it-all tendencies. All that magic, wasted... Ah well." Malfoy mused while strolling into their arithmancy lecture, failing to notice that a rather furious Hermione was jerkily getting to her feet and gripping her wand so tightly her nails dug into her flesh, knuckles bleeding a ghostly white color.

"Where do you think you're going, you pompous arse? This isn't finished!" she called after him, hissing.

"Hmm?" he asked turning his ear from the doorway, crossing his arms lazily. "Oh, I believe it is, Bookworm. You see, the bell has rung already and that means tha-"

"Don't patronize me you foul little ferret! I know what it means when the blasted bell rings!" Hermione shrieked, whipping her wand about her. It somehow found itself shoved right under Malfoy's pointy, aristocratic nose.

_Well, that took care of the smirk-and-sneer combo_, she vaguely noted with a touch of amusement. But, being too deep in her anger, it didn't really register.

"So you'll admit that I have intellect, do I? But as an knowledgeable being such as myself, I fail to earn recognition from the magical community as a worthy or powerful witch solely because my parentage lacks any mention of magical history? You are such an ignorant, butt-headed git!"!" She bit out around her fury.

Malfoy's only response was a cock of an eyebrow, clearly mocking her choice of insult. Inevitably, this added more fuel to Hermione's wrath.

Making sure her prey didn't escape, Hermione gripped one of his crossed arms, digging her nails in through the cloak sleeve, paying no heed to the steady rush of body heat underneath. Malfoy didn't have body heat. He was a cold, conniving snake through and through. "There are no goons for you here Malfoy. What? Were you not able to get your father to bribe the professors to include your bodyguards on the class roster? Though, I suppose Gringott's doesn't allow transactions to and from Azkaban…"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed with renewed fury "Leave my father out of this!" he growled through his teeth. "Lowly peasant mudbloods like you aren't fit to speak of him even while shining his dragon leather shoes! And as for my goons, Granger? What about your own body guards? Potty and Weaselbee? I see they didn't make the cut either. That's unfortunate."

Hermione growled and opened her mouth the argue back, poking his nose with her wandtip until Malfoy turned his nose out of the way and tapped his wand on the top of her upper lip, stopping her from retaliating, interjecting with a superior tone.

"Ah, ah, ah. Well now, Granger, it seems to be just you and me. Again. And it's rather obvious who would be the more powerful of the two of us if we were to… er, act on these wand threats, eh?" He emphasized by wiggling his wand in front of her, smirking devilishly. His cold eyes sharpened with Slytherin cunning and calculation. He was about to open his mouth and taunt her some more when Hermione decided that she had had quite enough. Her molten copper eyes flashed with heated ire and annoyance; her mouth drawn into a tight, grim line.

Tightening her grip on her wand, she whirled it in a semi-loop about his hair and added a couple of arches to trace his eyebrows, gritting out a spell through clenched teeth. "_Colovarius Ferrium Defidio_"

Hermione stepped back to watch her handiwork while Malfoy glanced around, cautiously looking for the effects of her spell. Hermione snickered and then cast a levitation charm on the pure-blood prince before he could hex her back. She then threw him to the wall where she cast the permanent sticking charm and glued him to the bricks.

"I can't believe you haven't noticed yet, Malfoy. I was certain you would be close to tears now that I've threatened what you believe to be your most attractive feature."

Malfoy felt his arms being weighed down fractionally and the ends of his eyes began to feel heavy. His forehead began to sag slightly and give him the appearance of quite a disgruntled sleeper. His neck, though glued to the wall behind him, lurched slightly with the support of what had to be another ten pounds added to the average weight of his head. Every part of his body felt to be pricked with tiny needles. Struggling to keep his eyes open, Malfoy was able to make out small glints of silver metal sticking through his skin and thought for sure Granger had made a pincushion out of him.

"Now you don't need to add as much gel to your hair as you do in the morning! You've already got a helmet for a head. I think the heroic appeal will certainly be a fair exchange for your previous feminine glossy looks." She mused, fingering her wand. "I could make a crack at how this would be similar to how your ego would feel if it had any weight…but I think I'll just leave that one alone." She said, giving a cheeky smile.

Now that didn't make sense. If he was turned into a pincushion and glued to the wall, Granger wouldn't be going on about helmets of hair gel and the weight of ego, or whatever she was babbling about. So, that means that _maybe_ he wasn't turned into a million man-eating sewing needles or whatnot. Unfortunately, it was something else equally uncomfortable and painful. Not to mention embarrassing.

Unable to determine the result of Granger's curse, Malfoy huffed and grunted in irritation. He wriggled against the wall, hoping to stretch his hand close enough to his wand and escape his sticky confines. He ignored prickly stabs of whatever happened to his skin, frantically trying to dissect her words. Malfoy ran over his new-found knowledge of _Standard Book of Spells: Book Seven, by Miranda Goshank_, knowing that the uppity know-it-all probably finished the text twice already. He had only skimmed it. Really, it was only a week into the school year. There was no rush; he had plenty of time to study. Except, apparently, something from the later chapters was being used to peel his skin apart that was necessary to know _now_. Desperately, he scavenged his mind for any spell work that involved sharp objects, hair styles, or digging metals. Or, sharp digging metals as a hairstyle.

As students gathered out in the hall to determine the source or uncontrolled magic and voices, Malfoy was beginning to understand, to his horror, the type of spell that Granger had magicked upon him. He wasn't second in the class and made Head Boy for nothing. He did have some intelligence. Deciphering the words of her spell, Malfoy began to twitch with rage, and his eyes beheld an unholy spark of hate.

"Granger! Release me this instant! And fix my hair! And not just the bit on top of my head! All of it!" he hollered down at the snickering girl on the ground, his cheeks burning a fairly dangerous shade of magenta for one with his coloring.

"Are you sure you want me to do that, Ferret?" She asked with a clever twinkle in her eyes.

"Yes, let me down now! You wouldn't want a teacher to see you with you wand raised against another student, would you?" He goaded her, doing what he could to refrain from squirming and rubbing against his blistering sores swelling at the base of every hair follicle he had, while stretching his fingers to retrieve his wand stuck to the wall next to him.

"Well, what His Majesty wants, His Majesty gets." She shrugged and flicked a _finite_on her sticking charm, just as Malfoy gripped his wand with the tips of his fingers.

The students in the hallways turned at the loud clanging sound as Malfoy crashed heavily to the floor and laid there groaning dramatically. The curious onlookers circled about, watching the Gryffindor Head Girl with fascination as she took on the Hogwart's most recognizable blonde ferret. Said ferret was pushing up against the floor, his arms straining with his newfound weight. He glared at Granger's smug face, his mouth turned into a deep frown, growling slightly before he rose to a lowly crawl.

"Look! Malfoy's trying out for the part of the Tin Man! I didn't know Hogwarts was having a muggle musical…" one fifth year called, pointing to the metallic form of the Slytherin Head Boy.

"We're not." Grumbled Blaise Zabini, glaring at the young student as he pushed his way to the front of the crowd, a nest of Slytherins following closely behind him.

"What's going on here? As a Prefect I demand to know who's dueling illegally in the hallway!" he called over the crowd, which opened to reveal the forms of his two class leaders. "Well, that's not too big a surprise, really." He muttered, unimpressed, to his Slytherin companions behind him.

Theo Nott nodded stoically in agreement and sighed with the lost patience of a parent.

Pansy screeched that Granger was going to have to suffer through physical therapy if she hurt one hair on her Drakie-poo's head.

Crabbe and Goyle were only concerned with the selection on tonight's menu.

Hermione, hearing Parkinson's threat, snickered some more and wondered idly if turning all of Malfoy's hairs to iron constituted 'hurting hairs'. She decided that she would be willing to suffer the therapy for an image such as this anyway, but tossed the thought away. It served the git right for knocking her beloved books on the ground. She had some rare editions in that stack! The nerve! Would he ever stop being so childish! _Probably not…_ she scoffed._ Arse._

"Mudblood!" Malfoy cursed as he staggered back upright, flinching at the stings sticking through him, fully holding his wand and glaring at the smug sight of the bookish best friend of The Boy Who Lived to Harass His Liver out of Him. Once to his feet, he spat to the side, "Filthy _Muggle_! I am a _Malfoy_. I am generations of power and magic, carefully selected and bred; infinitely more powerful than scum of the earth like _you_." He cackled breathlessly.

The Slytherin Prince made further attempts to straighten up, ignoring the pricks of discomfort and the slight new weight on his arms, and stuck out his wand. With a series of complicated swishes and flicks, he shouted "_Anteoculatia_!", then "_Locomotor Corpus_!" and waited for the results patiently while _not_ rubbing his eyes and face. He attempted to smooth a hand through his hair, snobbishly moving it back into place, before realizing that it wasn't needed because his hair was already molded into his signature slicked back style with an iron hold.

"Now, everyone can see you for the animal you are, Granger. I never really thought that mammalia would be a good look on you, but you seem to pull of wilderness rather well. In fact, it's an excellent substitution for that grungy wild mane of yours…"

_Git, _Hermione fumed as her legs kicked out to feel the ground beneath her. Of course Harry and Ron would choose now, of all times, to miss a fight with Malfoy. Flailing her arms wildly for stability, she cursed Trelawney for teaching such a pointless class which Ron and Harry couldn't help but schedule for their yearly blow-off course. Of course they were currently doing nothing but gazing skeptically into crystal balls and tea cups in hopes of predicting their future instead of helping her dethrone the Prat of Slytherin. _How idiotic,_ she inwardly rolled her eyes, _and completely inconvenient._

It wasn't until she was receiving pointed fingers and stares did she think to feel the sudden shift in weight on her head and touched long fuzzy horn-like _things _pointing out adjacent to her temple, that she really began to understand her situation. Antlers. Malfoy had cursed her with bloody _antlers_! No bleeding way. And now half the school could see her sporting the likeness of Bambi's Father. Wonderful. All Hail the King…er_ Queen _of the Forest.

With another ferocious growl fit for a Gryffindor Lioness, Hermione stuck her wand out to Malfoy again and cursed him with purple skin and sunshine yellow zigzags and swirls, quickly adding a confident "_Steleus_" which immediately produced the desired sneeze from the graffiti-marked metallic boy crippled on the floor.

With pursed lips the color of lemon and the light taste of banana, Draco retaliated with nasally "_Ebublio_!" before falling into a sneezing fit. Granger rumbled a bit before suddenly exploding and was soon floating above the hallway in the form of bubbles tinted red, gold and black with bits of russet and copper brown in between. Each bubble had antler-like sticks pointing out the top was ringed with a light tint of angry cherry red, vibrating with anger.

It was at this point that the Professors fought their way through the crowd, just in time to hear Seamus Finnegan grumble to Terry Boot that it appeared to be a stalemate and fork over two galleons reluctantly. Professor Flitwick, with his small stature was able to see the exchange and cleared his throat quite loudly behind the two gamblers, startling the two so much the money was dropped, and they turned around slowly with a sheepish look on their faces.

Professor Vector stood in shock at the remnants of her best student floating and fizzing in and out of existence above her head, and was only startled enough to look elsewhere at a particularly violent sneeze from the half-bent form of her _other_ best student who, though colored yellow and purple, seemed to be turning quite an interesting shade of green from the force of his constant sneezing as well! Gaping at the two Heads, she could only utter quiet _Oh, my_'s and _Dear Merlin_'s.

Professor McGonagall from the class down the hall had made her way towards the crowd in hopes of settling the pandemonium. Looking upon the chaos with a grim expression, she cast a solid _finite incantatum _and _expelliarmis, _grabbing both of the wands that soared toward her. She eyed both her students before looking down at them with a fixed, severe glare and a disappointed expression after ensuring the Head Girl popped into place and the Head Boy was his natural shade of colorless. She the ordered them to the Hospital Wing to cure their other… er, maladies.

McGonagall turned swiftly to the stairwell, sending all the other students scurrying away with the threats of detention with Filch, as well as sending Zabini for Professor Snape with the order to meet at the Headmaster's office to discuss matters concerning his Head Boy.

Madam Pomfrey gaped and sighed resolutely when the three burst into her infirmary before healing the two regularly recurring visitors of any injuries to the best of her ability while McGonagall tapped her foot impatiently nearby.

Suffering only the occasional bubble filled hiccup from Hermione and a slight banana-lemon and grape scent waft from Malfoy, the Deputy Headmistress let out a hard and sharp "Follow me" after they were healed. Malfoy and Granger glared daggers at each other before even considering moving, but another heated glare from the transfiguration professor urged them to finally comply.

* * *

"How completely irresponsible! You two are the _Heads_of this school for Godric's sake! You are supposed to set a _good_ and _proper_ example for the younger students! Not show them _exactly_ what _not _to do!" Professor McGonagall walked swiftly towards the gargoyle statue framed at the end of Dumbledore's entranceway and exasperatedly grumbled the password "_Fizzing Wizzbees_" to the stone defender and barely waited for the figure to turn a quarter before sweeping up the stairway it reveled. Hermione and Malfoy stumbled through the alcove, hurrying to catch up.

Upon reaching the top she rapped sharply on the wall next to the open entrance of the Headmaster's office and received no answer.

Noticing that Dumbledore wasn't in his office at this time, the Deputy Headmistress motioned for the two heads to sit on the two straight back chairs in front of his desk before sending one of the portraits in search of the missing Professor.

Gazing around with suspicious, narrowed look at all the whirling and buzzing odd knick-knacks and collectibles, Malfoy was quick to avert his attentive eyes from a strange dangerous-looking rusted device. He morbidly thought it was an ancient torture device meant for unruly students, with its sharp ends and dull pincers. He couldn't help the barely noticeable shudder escape him before reverting back to his practiced stoically bored expression. With a look of displeasure, lounged lazily (as much as one can lounge comfortably) in a strict straight back chair.

Hermione looked close to tears, twisting her fingers in her hands, fretting expulsion and a dreaded look of disappointment from her beloved professor, imagining all the scenarios in which she would be expelled— one in particular had Malfoy cackling gleefully at her heartbroken expression as they took her wand and gave it to Snape, who's usual displeased expression twitched with a twinge of malice as he snapped the insufferable know-it-all's precious 10 ¾ inch vine wand with a dragon heartstring core over his knobby knees.

Malfoy glanced over and watched her anxiety with an air of superiority, and snorted. He then turned away from her and watched his transfiguration professor scurry about with amused eyebrows quirked.

"Dueling! In the hallways! For shame!" McGonagall paced in front of the Headmaster's desk, failing her arms so her robes swung dramatically, shaking her head in disappointment.

She barely noticed when Professor Snape made his entrance, so caught up in her pacing. She really should have noticed. It was quite theatrical; the wind billowing against his cloak in a vampire-esque manner and Malfoy could have sworn lightening flashed from the window, dramatically, gracing the Potions Master with a gothic accent as he glared at the women who sent for him.

"Really, Minerva. Was it really necessary for my class to be interrupted for a matter concerning the two head students? My class of Hufflepuffs really should be closely monitored. Salazar knows that they'll be up two should I leave them unattended for two long. What matter could possibly be serious enough for me to be dragged away from my class?" The nasally voice with its carefully enunciated words startled Hermione out of her wits with a noticeable jump.

Malfoy snickered just as noticeably, that is, until he himself was on the receiving end of his godfather's scowl. He abruptly stopped, choking slightly on his quick change in air flow, but managed to cover it up with a polite cough.

Hermione's lips curled smugly at the action, though still she was still paralyzed and incapable of making a sound.

"Severus, I realize you are quite busy. Really, we all are. But this is quite serious! I caught Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger here dueling in the hallway!"

"And, Minerva, you hadn't seen fit to punish them right then and there with a detention? Surely this isn't their first offense this year. We ought to know the procedure by heart now…"

"Of course it isn't. But that really wasn't the issue here, today. I had to _glue_ Miss Granger back together enough to transport her well enough to the infirmary where Poppy had quite a fun time making sure her _skin_ remained intact. She was turned into soap bubbles, Severus. _Bubbles_. With _antlers_." Snape raised an eyebrow at his blond student, silently proud at his godson's dueling prowess.

"That doesn't even begin to account for Mr. Malfoy, here. He, I had rush with Miss Granger to the hospital wing, because he suddenly became allergic to _himself_! And, he was an unseemly purple color stippled with ungodly yellow accentuations, and giving off the distinct smell of a tropical fruit bowl. And what's more, the boy had metal for hair! _All_ of his hair. Every last bit. I suspect the poor soul shall want a soothing oatmeal bath when this is all over. Can't imagine the pain…er, elsewhere…" she said, shaking her head in sympathy for her students before regaining her stern demeanor. She settled her sharp eyes on said students and once again shook her head in frustration, her grim expression promising punishment. "This needs to stop before someone gets seriously injured."

With each mention of her hexes, Hermione sunk lower and lower in her seat, until she was practically lying horizontal in her severe-styled chair, her neck crooked harshly upwards. It hardly looked comfortable.

Snape gave and exasperated sigh, pulling his face tight with contempt and resigned himself to a long meeting. This had gone on long enough, and as the top students of the school, this was an exceptionally poor example of proper schooling etiquette. It was only the middle of the second week of classes for Merlin's sake! Really, had they no patience for each other at all?

With a burst of green flames from the ornate fireplace adjacent to the desk, Dumbledore stumbled into the tense room and cheerfully greeted those present before strolling to his desk, ignoring the awkward atmosphere and plopping down in a tie-dyed bean bag chair. He claimed it was good for his joints and that he loved the colors. Noticing the mismatching arrangements in the room, Dumbledore transfigured the other medieval styled chairs into the same tie-dyed seating. McGonagall quirked an eyebrow before moving to a vacant bean bag stiffly.

"Have you been away all this time, Albus? Did Minister Fudge bring you in for a surprise interrogation again? You left for the Ministry just after breakfast early this morning! Surely the paranoid man still doesn't think that you plan on stealing his position from under his bulbous nose…"

"Certainly not, Minerva. I merely lost track of time reading the magazines in the lobby after meeting with a Mrs. Agnes Stiple of Department of International Magical Cooperation. That woman was quite stern and lectured me to limit my monthly visits to the Dragon Reserve in Hungary, as a certain Minister was beginning to worry that I planned on hijacking one and using it to breathe fire over the ministry while waving my hat madly from atop its reptilian head. I expressed quite adamantly that I only enjoy the petting zoo over there… I hardly think that a petite Swedish Short-Snout is capable carrying my heavy body, let alone taking down every single level of the Ministry in a swirl of dramatic fiery flames. Anyway, the magazines advertized new knitting patterns. I could hardly pass those up, you know how I enjoy those so…Lemon drop, anyone?" he asked jovially, the ever present twinkle in his blue eyes gleaming in good humor.

Malfoy only gaped at the headmaster, certain the man was barmy and the twinkle in his eyes was pure insanity. The Slytherin listened as Ganger and McGonagall politely declined, and he swore he overheard Professor Snape grumble quietly in the corner of the room about preferring acid pops. He looked incredulously back and forth over the occupants of the room, convinced that he was the only sane one left and the world had been shot to hell.

"Forgive me, Headmaster, but we have some business to attend to, regarding Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, looking anything but sorry about abruptly interrupting the ongoing conversation.

"Ah, yes. Quite right, Severus. I assume that they've had another exchange of spells?" At the two professors nods he continued, "This is the fourth time in a week that they've been caught dueling again, correct?"

"Yes, Albus. That is right. This cannot continue! These two are the Heads of the class, the brightest in the school! The younger students look up to them for help while the rest of the Professors and classmates depend on them for order! Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger take their position seriously enough, but cannot seem to overlook childish animosity to complete the job as is necessary!" McGonagall interjected. "I cannot deal with another detention for these two. Even without wands they seem set on killing each other!" Snape nodded in agreement, while Hermione looked stricken at the transfiguration Professor's assessment of her duty, certain she was facing failure. "The school cannot take anymore of this violent behavior, Albus!"

Dumbledore nodded, looking pensively at two of his seventh year students. "Have you two anything to say in defense of your actions?"

Malfoy glanced dully from the Hermione to his headmaster before adversely shaking his head unconcernedly.

"No, Professor," Hermione said quietly, looking close to tears, gripping her shaking hands so tightly together her knuckles turned white. _This is all Malfoy's fault. I could seriously injure him without remorse. I swear I will if his childish antics get me expelled._ She scowled furiously at her thoughts, shooting a quick scathing look at the Head Boy from the corner of her eyes. She quickly settled her features into grief and innocence, looking at the Headmaster with large and sorrowful eyes.

As if reading her thoughts, the boy in question raised an eyebrow and smirked at the quick look of hatred from the girl sitting next to him. When she schooled her features and sniffled, nodding meekly to the elder wizard behind the desk, Malfoy snorted inaudibly._ Way to kiss arse, Granger. _

"Well, then. It appears I have no choice. I've only had to use this punishment once, nearly twenty years ago, and it worked wonders then. It seems that in order to for you two to set aside you differences for the good of the school, you are going to be forced to spend time together. I'll notify all your professors in your shared classes to pair you both together as partners when appropriate. Also, I shall be moving your separate head dormitories into one; separate bedrooms, mind you."

Snape groaned, thinking about all the disasters that would occur in his potions lab with these two as partners, while McGonagall grimaced, equally distraught while imagining quite clearly what could happen next week when she begins a lesson on how to transform croque mallets into flamingoes.

Malfoy leapt to his feet, waving his arms wildly while pacing in front of the heavy desk. "This is unheard of! I will not stand for this. My Father will hear of this! Even in Azkaban he still has connections; even _that _you cannot deny. Imagine what kind of connections he's made since being convicted! Just you wait! I'll have this school running out of my hands before you know it! Get me the Minister! Circe knows that fool is easily manipulated. I will not allow such treatment! I am practically royalty! This is a mockery of the wizarding world! Have you no shame?" He whirled in place, glaring at Hermione, who sat in shock at the revelation and said hatefully, "I will not work with such a dirty creature, under no circumstances. You can bet your pay roll on that." He continued pacing, grunting and muttering, spitting curses and scowling spitefully at everyone.

Hermione gasped quite loudly, nearly choking herself, before begging Dumbledore for a simple detention and protesting just as loudly as Malfoy (without his flair for drama, of course) that this would never work, and that she'd end up suffocating him in his sleep if she was forced to spend the majority of her day with his _as well as_ suffering his presence in her quarters after class.

Malfoy stopped his rant long enough to overhear Hermione's complaint and eyed her hands wearily as they clenched tighter and tighter together.

Dumbledore held up a single hand, silencing Hermione and Draco's protests (as well as those of Snape and McGonagall). "I wasn't finished."

The Head Boy turned sharply back around and demanded "What? This isn't inhumane enough as it is? I have to suffer _more_ of this- this _torture_?"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Unfortunately, normal punishment will not be enough for you two, as you two are not exactly normal students. I have known you two since you were both eleven years old; tiny, impressionable things. And I have watched you both grow into the exceedingly intelligent, dangerously powerful and above all, _outstandingly_ stubborn young people you are right in front of me. It is going to take quite some time before you two can learn to cooperate with each other, as equals.  
"Therefore, I have come to this conclusion." He said with his hands steepled in front of him. "You both shall endure a specific curse, created by myself for two other unruly former students, such as yourselves."

Hermione tentatively raised her hand, obviously questioning what the curse was to be, while Malfoy muttered something about _unethical _and _suing Hogwarts for malpractice_.

Dumbledore only lowered his hands and chuckled. It was actually quite unnerving; for one to chuckle while giving punishment, you knew it would be quite an… _unpleasant _experience.

"Let me finish, Miss Granger, before you interrogate me with your lovely and endless curiosity." McGonagall and Dumbledore smiled at this in good humor as Hermione blushed bright pink, and lowering her arm. Snape grumbled from his corner about unendurable inquisitiveness. Malfoy snickered scathingly, ignoring the glare Hermione threw his way.  
"Now, where was I? Oh, yes. This curse of mine… where to start… Ah! Erm, What was the date today? The 10th of September, of course, thank you Severus. As such, there are 20 days remaining for this month, before October begins in which there are 31 days, followed by November and December and so on, yes?"

"Albus, will you please make your point? I have a class to finish teaching before the day is over and they all leave without their assignments, in which I will be distinctly displeased."

"Oh! So sorry, Severus. Yes, indeed, I do have a point to all this."

"Then kindly get to it, Headmaster." Snape glared, while McGonagall looked affronted at the Potion Master's rudeness.

"Of course, Severus, I'll make this as quickly as possible. All in due time! Now, as I was saying, there are 20 days left in September. As stipulated in this particular punishment, you have one week to fulfill each lesson, of which, according to math, this month, there will be three. This will continue throughout the rest of this year, I do believe, unless I see no progress and reinforce the curse next January. Failure to complete each lesson in the allotted seven days will further lengthen the time in which you must continue with this sentencing, continuing into the new year, whilst also suffering manual labor courtesy of Mr. Filch or the Grounds-keeper, Hagrid."

Hermione was hanging onto every word, nearly rolling off her bean bag, entranced with curiosity, Dumbledore's words offering more questions than answers. She pulled at her fingers, nervously, while biting her lip so thoughtlessly she nearly drew blood.

"In the muggle world—" Malfoy scoffed at this and muttered _I should have known, _earning another scathing glare from the Head Girl and a sharp _Shh!_, "— as well as in the magical community, calendars are used to keep track of the passing of days and on which we record future plans. As each day ends, usually the calendar date is crossed off accordingly, and we continue to the next day, and repeat the action. Muggle's use this to their advantage and out an engaging spin on such a boring ritual to put a spin on their day. In a variation of the grid calendar, a stacked version with removable dates sometimes contains daily famous quotes, jokes, passages from texts and motivational ideas and so forth."

Hermione nodded along cautiously, knowing of the object Dumbledore was speaking of, but struggling to understand the mechanics of her punishment.

"I already know exactly what you're wondering Ms. Granger, 'What exactly does this have to do with my allotted seven days to complete a lesson?'" Hermione's blush renewed with full force as she shook her head in embarrassed agreement.  
"Well, you and Mr. Malfoy are going to receive one of these Calendars. Your punishment is to fulfill each meaning of the daily scripts, either together or separately, with regards to the other, when mentioned within that week. That means, for the rest of this September, you will have three scripts of any kind to fulfill in some way. When the seven days are over and the lesson completed, the calendar is charmed to allow the page containing the script to fall and the new one to be revealed." Silence greeted the former transfiguration professor when he finished explain what Draco and Hermione were to accomplish.  
"I, of course, will be providing the scripts, some, to be sure, including my own words of wisdom…"

He looked at his two top students; eyes sparkled mischievously over his half-moon spectacles. Though his expression remained serious and stoic, a tell-tale twitch near the corner of his mouth informed the other two well-acquainted professors in the room exchanged a look, each knowing that their Headmaster had something up his billowing, periwinkle cloak sleeves. The students in question looked on is dismay, their eyes wide, certain that their dear, eccentric Head of the School had one too many hits from a runaway bludger in his younger days and was finally paying the price.

"I believe that is all. You are excused. I think dinner should be served within the hour, if you are hungry. You will sleep in you new dormitories tonight. I shall ask the house-elves to move your things during dinner, and I believe I will as to your Heads of House to take you to your new room. The Lessons shall start tomorrow.  
"Oh! And one more thing before you leave. I urge you to take this matter quite seriously. I am very sure that you both do _not_want to stay within each other's acquaintance for longer than I have deemed necessary, so do try to finish each script promptly. Not only that, but I am 150 years old, and as great as my skin may look, I fear that in my old age some of my words of wisdom may seem to stray, becoming bit mottled and outrageous. So, the more trials I have to think up, the more eccentric they may become. A fair warning, I should think." Dumbledore looked over his spectacles at the stunned faces of his two brightest students. As he stroked his long, grayed beard, he gave a raspy chortle, imagining the magnitude of the many incidents to come.

Of course, the sight of a mad man stroking his hair and chuckling quietly with a tell-tale gleam of wickedness in usually serene blue eyes would cause anyone with even a questionable amount of sanity to observe cautiously. Malfoy, Granger and the two professors watched the most powerful wizard in the world with incredulous looks on their faces.

The former two contemplated their life and how they deserved such inhumane treatment; to be forced into agreeable companionship. Hermione likened her situation to lab mice and psychological testing and her scowl deepened.

The latter two professors, glanced at each other with raised eyebrows, silently asking when to accept wagers, what the starting bet was to be and who could be included.

Dismissed, Malfoy and Granger childishly stomped their way out of the office, ignoring each other completely. McGonagall followed swiftly while Snape stalked quietly behind, stopping momentarily when Dumbledore spoke once again, "I apologize, Severus, for interrupting your lecture. I'm sure you can find some way to make up for lost time."

"Of course, Sir."

"Don't scare them too badly, Severus"

"I shall strive for my best, Headmaster."

Before fully stepping outside the office, without turning around, Snape added, "I know you're up to something. It's only a matter of time before we start figuring it out. Do try to ensure no one gets hurt. With Granger and Malfoy, there is always seems to be a penchant for violence," and swept out of the office with a swirl of dark obsidian robes.

Dumbledore only smiled mysteriously, turning to his phoenix, Fawkes, and said quietly, "Ah, but with Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy, I can tell that there is also a thin line between their love and their hate, my friend. Both of them are filled with the passion of one or the other. But, love and hate are very close, indeed. And in these hours of war, time really shouldn't be wasted on petty matters such as determining where the line between the two is drawn."

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."~ Seneca, Roman Philosopher

TBC

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A/N: So, I hope you guys liked it! Please let me know what you think! And be honest! I can take it... I think. Just try not to majorly depress me... that could ony end badly for everyone :)

This was my very first fanfic. Ever. I am amazed with myself. I actually finished a chapter. Claps all around!

Also, a big fat gracias to my friend Ami for agreeing to be my beta, and therefore my other brain :)


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